


Falling For You

by 20-million-bees (bonk_fueled)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Get Together, M/M, Q is clumsy, kind of, they're getting there though, they're in love but they don't know it yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5423003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonk_fueled/pseuds/20-million-bees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nearly Christmas and James is living below Q.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling For You

James Bond was sitting in a plush armchair, looking out of the window as snow fell steadily. After a recent “incident”, he had been re-located to a special flat that had been dedicated by MI6 for these sorts of situations. Usually Bond wouldn't have minded. Even though it was very close to Christmas, he never felt the need to be at “home” for the holidays. For an agent, that luxury could not be expected. What Bond did mind was that his temporary flat was located directly below the Quartermaster’s. This was not on accident. Q was in charge of keeping the flat well protected and under the radar in case such incidents like Bond’s arose. As far as any records would show, the only occupant of the flat was an elderly widow who was a retired baker.  
Bond did not know what was becoming of the relationship between him and his Quartermaster. Between legendary womanizer Bond and the ever-snarky Q, it was really impossible to tell if they were actually flirting or not. Bond was not used to flirting with people he intended to keep. He didn't even know if Q was interested in men.   
As Bond continued watching the snow falling, scotch in hand, he could hear shuffling coming from upstairs.   
Bond sighed. This was not the first incident of noise that Bond had noticed. Ever since he had moved in only two days ago, Bond could hear almost constant movement above him and what he could only assume to be rearranging of furniture. There was no other explanation for the constant scraping from the floor. Bond had expected Q to be a quiet neighbor who would sit around on his laptop all day. Sadly, this wasn't the case.   
Bond began to get up to find something to distract himself when he heard a bang and a yell. He turned around just in time to see a mass falling from above past his window.   
“Q?” Bond yelled, more from shock than actually expecting a response.   
“He would have fallen from the third floor. And what was that noise? Had someone managed to break into Q’s flat and shoot him?”   
Bond worried as he ran down the stairs to the outside where he had seen the body fall. As he turned the corner, Bond saw a slight shuffle and groan coming from the snow. Gun in hand, Bond ran over to the form lying in the snow, which he could now identify as definitely Q.   
“Q, are you alright? What happened? Are you injured, who did this?” Bond fired off his questions as he helped the man sit up.   
“I'll be fine 007,” Q responded, rubbing his upper arm on the side he had fallen on, “I'm very thankful that we've had an unusually large amount of snow this year. It broke my fall better than frozen ground would have. And no, my apartment was not compromised.”  
“Then why in bloody hell did you fall out of your window?”  
“I'd rather we continue discussing any concerns you have inside, rather than icing my injuries with the snow.”  
“Right, of course,” James responded, helping the man to his feet. As Q attempted to walk, it was obvious that one of his legs was bothering him. Bond offered an arm and Q took it begrudgingly.   
“You know we're going to have to check that out, and the rest of you to make sure you didn't break something, right?” Bond said with an only half-teasing tone.   
“I can very well take care of myself, thank you,” Q replied. However, Q’s ankle decided that it did not appreciate the stairs that Q was trying to force it up. He hissed at the pain and next thing Q knew, he was being bridal-carried by Bond.   
“007, what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?” Q practically yelled into Bond’s ear.   
“It's fairly obvious that you're in no condition to walk right now. And call me James while we're off-duty.”  
“We're never off-duty,” Q said bitterly while crossing his arms. Bond was right though, Q didn't think he would have made it up the stairs. To Q’s surprise, Bond took Q into his temporary flat rather than back to Q’s.   
“Bond, why aren't you taking me back to my own flat?”  
“I was serious when I said I needed to check you over for injuries. I’m certain now that at least your ankle needs some tending to, and I always keep first aid supplies with me,” Bond replaced matter-of-factly. Q huffed, but made no other movement, and James took that as a sign of defeat. Walking into Bond’s apartment, he gently set Q down on his couch and grabbed his medical stuff from his room. Returning to the living room, he set down the tools and turned to Q.   
“Let me see your ankle.” Q lifted his leg up gingerly and set it in front of Bond. Removing Q’s shoe and sock, Q let out a hiss as James felt around the swollen area.   
“I don't believe it's broken, but you definitely twisted it pretty badly,” Bond said, wrapping the ankle, “You'll want to take it easy on that for the next week or so. Did you get hurt anywhere else?”  
“Not really.”  
“Not really? Or no?”  
“No, besides the few obvious aches that come from falling from a window and my bruised ego.”  
“Speaking of which, how on earth did you manage fall from your window?” Q reddened a little in the face.   
“Well, I had thought that, it being Christmas and all, that I should decorate my flat. And well, I have these lights that are meant for outside, so I was standing on the ledge that's right below the window, but the window slammed shut and surprised me, and the roof was slippery…” Q trailed off.   
“You mean to tell me that the Quartermaster of MI6 was bested by a slippery roof?” James asked, doing his best not to laugh.   
“If you mention this to anyone at work, you're going to find that your next mission will be aided by nothing except a dull pocket knife and some glue,” Q said threateningly.   
“I'd like a challenge,” Bond said, grinning.   
“You're impossible.”

“You had me really worried, you know,” James said, after a short silence.   
“Worried?” Q echoed.   
“I thought you had been attacked,” Bond said,” I was afraid I was going to find you in a bank of red snow.”  
Q was pensive.   
“I'm sorry to have worried you, 007.”  
“Please, call me James. I don't know what I would have done if I had lost my Quartermaster right under, or above, my nose.”  
My Quartermaster. Q was baffled by the wording. Q had a secret hope for the longest time that maybe Bond returned his feelings. 

“So have you finished decorating?” Bond asked, jerking him from his thoughts.   
“Ah, no actually, there was quite a bit left.”  
“Well, maybe since you might have trouble doing it yourself, would you like some assistance?” Bond asked.   
“I'd like that very much… James.”


End file.
